hey Come Back

"If I had known the horror we were facing, I would have taken Sally and Scott in my arms, like my parents took me, and run from this town forever."

― Sometimes They Come Back

"Repeater?" the voice shattered the still.

"Fuck!" Hugh Mungus spun inside the pinched perimeter of the glory hole booth.

A click. A sputter, and the flame of an oxidized Zippo illuminated the old man's face.

"Christ with a molten arrow up his ass, I thought I was alone in here," our hero responded. Aware of the senior's presence, Hugh detected the aroma of baked garlic, and grape-flavored Swisher Sweets.

"Got another one, huh?" basement balls queried.

" 'Another one' what?!" the protagonist inquired, distancing himself from the spiderwebbed horse leather doubling as a face.

"A Repeater, son. A fuckin' Repeater!"

"Lay off the Viagra, and keep it down, old man!" Mungus upbraided, while tempering the volume of his own voice. "She's right outside."

Frightened for the Numbers, he kept his ear against the wall, as the Repeater lurked in the hallway, searching for his cock. Lost in the labyrinth, from time-to-time she'd get so close, he could hear her wet womb sloshing around, as she stumbled by in a drunken haze.

"Hugh? Hugh?!" she bellowed.

Shards of broken glass for fingernails, she clawed the dust-dry plywood comprising the booth.

Mungus' blood iced over. He'd created a monster. If he hadn't been so dedicated to the Numbers, he'd be out there fucking right now, as opposed to hiding inside this confessional for perverts.

That said, his goal had kept him on track, while others fell off the train, lost beneath the rails ― finding girlfriends, getting married, and further conforming to this system.

"Been watchin' ya' all night. You ain't me, but you're good," the old man asserted.

"Huh?"

"If I've been countin' correctly, that makes three for the evenin'."

Hugh pulled back, to get a better look at this prune smuggler. The guy might as well have been Bernie Sanders. What the hell was he jawin' about?

"I know. Folks would willfully look at live, skinned puppies before they took a gander at me, but you ain't no James Garner, douche nuts!"

"Easy, pops."

" 'Sides, most of 'em ain't got one a' these in their meat locker." The withered warrior released eight inches of coiled cottonmouth from his britches, proving his point.

"Here?!" our male lead noted the claustrophobic confines. "Now?!?"

Returning his ample appendage to his slacks, the knuckle wagon navigator rejoined, "Just needed ya' to know we're brothers, and I understand what you're goin' through."

Mungus sized up the geriatric gigolo. "You're a Numbers Guy?!"

"Been so for better part of a century," the man responded. "You're doin' good work out there, by the way," the Monopoly Mascot predicated.

"Well― Well, thanks," our hero smiled.

"No problem, son. Always nice to meet a fellow Digits Dude...There are so few of us around, these days."

"I thought I was alone for years."

"Well, ya' ain't. We don't have the numbers the church does, but that shit's a bigger load than a Peter North cumshot, anyway."

"Hugh? Hugh?!" the Repeater passed by, raking her stiletto heels over the tiled floor.

"So, back to your dilemma," the liam continued. "Ever try one a' these?" Boney fingers produced what appeared to be an ordinary condom in its wrapper.

"Maybe you weren't watching closely enough, but I don't dip without swim trunks―"

"Oh, this ain't no regular rubber. These babies are silver-tipped―"

"What?!"

"Forged up a demon's cunt in Armenia. They're illegal in certain countries. Fuck a Repeater with one a' these, and it's like shootin' a werewolf with a silver bullet―"

"Huh?!"

"Won't kill 'em, but they'll leave ya' alone forever."

"You gotta be kiddin' me!"

"Sure as pussy pulls ya' in like the center of a black hole. You have to be eight inches or more, but once that silver tip hits cervix, you might as well be drivin' a stake through a vampire's heart."

The banana burka gleamed in the illumination from the lighter's flame.

"May I―?" Hugh motioned to the bone bag.

" 'Course, son," the geriatric reached into his pocket, producing five carbon copies of what he referred to as Repeater Repellent. "They're all yours," he proclaimed.

With that, the flame extinguished, and the man vanished.

Shocked, HM retracted the curtain, allowing light to fill the booth. He was alone, save for half a dozen silver-tipped condoms, still in their wrappers.

'You know how you were sayin' that history repeats itself? Well, I've been thinkin' a lot about that. And that really bothers me.'

'Why's that?'

'I dunno. Does it have to be the same story repeated over again? I mean, can't we change anything?' "

― Sometimes They Come Back

"Fuck me!" screamed the nude BBW, with tits bigger than Montel Williams' fan base in the '90s. "Fuck me! Fuck me!! Fuck me!!"

It was a babe bellow he'd normally answer with more relish than 10,000 franks, featurin' all the fixins. That said, Hugh Mungus was strokin' The Back Nine inside Number 4,447, and the woman shrieking beside the bed was Number 4,023.

In addition, 4,448 awaited 10 feet away, legs spread like greed across a landscape built upon the monetary system.

Repeaters: They're inevitable, if you become a Numbers Guy. You don't frequent the same swing clubs, on multiple occasions, and not expect to see the same women.

So, the question arises as to how to deal with them, when they return for rounds two, three, four, etc.

The answer is: Any way you can!

Scenarios vary. Thus, your response to them will have to, as well.

One reaction is as follows:

Once they're on the list, the next time they wanna hook-up, give 'em bad sex, so they don't contact you again. This will enable you to progress to the next Number.

Here, though, you'll run the risk of them informing their female friends you're a lousy lay. As a result, additional avenues of pleasure may close to you.

Hence, should you decide to take the "crappy coitus" course, be extra nice to the women with whom you use it. That way, they'll more than likely not lambaste you to their pals, and you'll have the chance to hook-up with those Numbers, as well.

"[They're] stuck in that mid-realm. That dimension between here and one's final destination. Sometimes, son, they're in our hearts. Sometimes they're in our thoughts. But, if they're unhappy enough — if somethin's left unsettled — sometimes they come back."

― Sometimes They Come Back

You can also pretend you had previous plans. This works, when circumventing a woman over the phone, or online.

Such modality isn't viable, though, should you be dealing with a lusty lass, face-to-face. Telling a horny housewife ― who's dripping from the crotch — in person, you can't play, because you're waiting for a different woman to show, won't go over well.

Excusing yourself to hit the head, and disappearing into the swing club, can work. Everybody needs to go to the bathroom, so it seems a legitimate excuse. You can feign you were detained on your way back, and ended up in an orgy.

Again, different situations require different responses. As a result, it's auspicious to have a few standard reactions, when confronted with a Repeater.

" 'We're gonna go through the tunnel?'

'Sure. It's faster.'

'No, Wayne! Don't! Don't!' [...]

'Run, Jimmy! Run! [...] Get help!' "

― Sometimes They Come Back

Like walking up an escalator that's going down, fucking the same woman over and over will get you nowhere in the Numbers game. So asserted, if the gal has female friends interested in humping, this is a route that can prove propitious.

Receiving recommendations from a trusted source can mean one day you're fuckin' a casino cashier; the next, you're humpin' her coworkers, her sister, and her neighbor.

Some rules Hugh likes to lust by are:

A) don't stay with one woman too long, and

B) don't stay with one woman too long.

Like a neo-Nazi residing in Israel, you've gotta move! Remain stagnant, and you might as well get married, succumb to a "career" that doesn't exist, and place your faith in a government that's ordered you nuked thousands of times.

Fuck this system! It constantly fucks you. Rage until you get what you want...and then rage some more.

— authored by Hugh Mungus
https://jav.guru/36444

hey Come Back

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